


Regret:  Five Kisses

by lunabee34 (Lorraine)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble Sequence, F/M, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-16 16:08:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1353553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lorraine/pseuds/lunabee34
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I wrote this immediately following my first read of <i>Deathly Hallows</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regret:  Five Kisses

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Polski available: [Żałując: Pięć pocałunków](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3666438) by [euphoria814](https://archiveofourown.org/users/euphoria814/pseuds/euphoria814)



1  
When he remembers, Albus isn’t surprised that they first kissed in a graveyard, that the first breath he shared with Gellert was in a place of death. Gellert ran his fingers over the runes carved into Peverell’s headstone, his eyes wild and his hair curling up at the nape in the summer heat. Albus reached for him, unable to quell the urge to grab that intensity with both hands and let it lead him where it might. Gellert pressed him into the grass and traced those same runes onto Albus’s belly, teaching Albus to take what he wanted without fear.

2  
Their magic is not enough to make this place warm, not with the snow drifted high outside the tent and Ron’s absence a freezing numbness that grows with each hour. Hermione unrolls her sleeping bag next to Harry’s and Harry doesn’t say a word. Not when she pulls him to her and unbuttons his shirt with shaking hands. Not when her mouth is moving cool and slick under his own. Not when her breath is coming faster against Harry’s chest. Not when the name she pants belongs to someone else. They sleep after, Hermione’s body an icy parenthesis around him.

3  
The house is full to bursting, but they’re finally alone outside in the deepening twilight. George grins. “Stop it. Stop joking,” his brother says and then Fred is kissing him, kissing him and crying at the same time, his fingers ghosting around the place where George is broken. Fred kisses him messily, his tears pooling where their mouths touch, his teeth scraping George’s bottom lip when he pulls away. “It’s done, don’t you see? We’re different now.” “Oh, Fred,” George says tenderly and shows him with his hands and with his mouth all the ways they are still the same.

4  
When Remus kisses Tonks, he searches her face for the bit of Black that hides there, the quirk of her lips or the achingly familiar arch of an eyebrow. He finds such surprising traces of Padfoot in this woman—delicate finger joints, the knobs of her spine. Remus is ashamed of himself when the softness of her hips does not suffice, when the jaw that slides along his thigh is smooth and unsatisfying. Yet Tonks never looks so much like Sirius as when they are in bed and Remus wonders if he is the only one with reason for shame.

5  
Lily’s hand on Harry’s face is barely tangible, an almost insubstantial press of nothingness against his skin. She is neither warm nor cold and Harry is grateful that he can feel her at all. Watching her here in the gloaming, Harry can see that their eyes are more alike than he could ever tell from photographs. His mother is so beautiful, such enormous power hidden in her apparent fragility. Harry thinks of Ginny and almost smiles. Then his mother touches her lips to his cheek, one slight brush of her skin against his own, and Harry is ready to die.


End file.
